Conspiracy
by birkinsmith-88
Summary: Part 2: Resident Evil 2 From Ben Bertoluccis' perspective
1. Default Chapter

*Please note that some of the contents of this story may slightly differ  
from the original gaming content*  
  
*Also note that this story was written before the European release of Resident Evil Zero, which lists alternate events to the ones stated here*  
  
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May 9, 1998: Played poker tonight with Scott and Alias from Security, and Steve from Research. Steve was the big winner, but I think he was cheating. Scumbag.  
  
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.  
  
***  
  
"Talk to him, Johnny-boy." "Why don't you?" "What, you're scared of him, hu? Worried you'd get your blonde ass fired into the fucking ground if you talk to the execs?" "Fuck you and he's not an exec, he's the project leader." "Dammit, John! Go up there and talk to that weirdo! You know you can do it!" "Go fuck yourself, shit head. I'm not getting anywhere near that thing he's looking at." "Man, you're one of the idiots working on the bastard!" "I still don't see how I'm the one who has to talk to that guy. He's . not right." "If you started to pay attention to right and wrong, then you wouldn't be working here, smartass!" "I still fail to see the part where I have to talk to the weirdo." "Look okay, it goes like this; you're higher in rank than me, buddy! From lowest to highest, it goes; Bill Rabbitson, that's bunny, he's sitting next to you with the big hair and the bandanna." A light-hearted man with a red and white polka dot bandanna waved at him. "Ellen Smith, she's the bitch. Problem is that she's an exec and she's pals with the project leader. Henry Sarton, that's me, Martin Crackhorn, he's the ginger who locks himself in the study, John Howe, that's you." "I know who I fucking am." "Sure you do. Michel Dees," He continued "I think he's the kennel guy or something, Steve Keller, he's the nice guy on my right with the cig, and last, but not least, William Birkin. That's the dude over there."  
They all turned from the closed off couch area through the window to the specimen area. There where curtains to hide the view, some of the researchers had a horrid habit of throwing up at unexpected moments when the shutters where open. God knows why. They work on the damn thing. The researchers and more notably, the consultant researchers where odd people indeed, in fact, probably only he, Henry and Steve ever tried to socialize. Bill Rabbitson hung out with everyone, but rarely spoke, but if you got him talking, good God. Sometimes, he would never shut up.  
The Researchers where better qualified and looked down on the technicians as though they where nothing. The techs where some of Johns best pals, but only a handful of his fellow researchers even saw them as fitting company to be socialised with. Ellen Smith was a prime example of this behaviour. You'd think that she got bad press, being a woman executive and all but if anything she was the worst. She was savage and would probably fire anyone who gave her a funny look, let alone look at her in any way at all. Martin Crackhorn spent all his free time writing letters to his wife Alma, so he rarely had time to speak to the gang and Michel Dees seemed to have some social problems and found it difficult to empathise with people, so it seemed unlikely he would ever sit down with a cup of coffee and be ready for a nice friendly chat. He would sometimes play cards if he was feeling particularly lonely but he never win and would slink away to God knows were for hours. Henry and Steve were like peas in a pod; both utter assholes. They thought of themselves as the leaders of the gang. As unbearably piggish as they were, they were good guys at heart and they played a good game of poker. Steve smoked a lot of cigs and you could always tell if he was a room or two away from the cloud, but apart from the lounge area, smoking in the underground labs was strictly prohibited. The mansion on the upper levels was where the staff lived. Each staff member was issued with a map; the mansion was designed to be a labyrinth, any intruders would suffer the same rumoured fate as the designer of the place; he went mad in the corridors of the mansion, lost in his own masterpiece. He died of dehydration or starvation, whichever came sooner. Despite the fact that the mansion was indeed a confusion, there was one man whom had been here from the beginning, who knew the mansion so well that he didn't need a map anymore. A man who knew the structure better than its own artisan, and that mans name was William Birkin. He never spoke to anyone, but he never gave John the impression that they were lesser to him, either. He just didn't notice them half the time and the other half he just nods at them as they walk past him in the corridors. He always had his hands folded behind his back and his height, his freakish walk, like he was floating along or something. it all gave John the creeps. His eyes, mostly. John would try to avoid eye contact with that man as much as possible. John could even look one of the '121's' directly in the eye, but, God, please not William Birkin. His eyes where a large and pallid blue, almost like a monsters. and if that wasn't proof enough that William was quirky, he was the only human being John knew that actually got on well with Ellen Smith. He heard that it was because his wife was like her and he knew just how to deal with a difficult woman. John had seen Birkin's wife before on one of the visits she occasionally gives him, and by God, John didn't care if she was a bitch or not, he would try his luck with a woman like that.  
She was blonde with attractive dark blue eyes and she had very long legs. John liked long legs on a woman. Back to those eyes. She looked at him once when he got a bit too close to her for comfort; if looks could kill, he would've left that room in a wicker basket, only unlike Ellen, when Annette Birkin gave you the look of death, it made butterflies shoot up through your stomach. You would probably take more note of one of Annettes' evil stares than one of Ellen's; Annette was much more likely to punch you in the gut if you ignored her.  
Ellen would look at home on a broomstick, but Annette was foxy, but deadly; as bad as her husband, because. everyone in the labs knew what happened when you messed with William's wife.  
There was this tech once; a buff sort of guy, Adam was his name. He was supposed to be the type women went for; rich, strong, blue eyed, strong cheekbones. If John were a girl, he wouldn't go for him; he was a slimy old  
  
snake and he only wanted Annette because she was well off and an instant family would be his reward. William found out, as he had a horrid habit of doing. William seems to know everyone's dark little secrets; he even somehow found out that John met his girlfriend Ada Wong at a friend's engagement party. It's been said that William found Adam smooth talking his wife in one of the storage rooms in the mansion. God only knows how. If William received a tip off, then how could he have gotten there so quickly, and to the correct storage room, to boot? There where numerous storerooms dotted all around the mansion and to walk from one side to the other, it could take a full hour. William found Adam nonetheless, and beat him senseless. William was very tall, but very skinny indeed; so how he could have beaten such a burly man as Adam is a mystery. What happened to Adam after that is shrouded in legend. It was no secret that William knocked this character about, but he heard that William went as far as killing the guy. Everyone who was said to have anything to do with it kept mainly quiet, but . the Tyrant.  
The Tyrant was the main focus of the project. It was a creature that had once been a man, only now it was the subject to all the experimentation on the Tyrant-virus, or T-virus for short. A team of surgeons had to work on each membrane, composing each and every inch of the creatures' body. Conveniently, William was the lead of the team and the Tyrant project began round about the time Adam was 'admitted to hospital'. But if it was so glaringly obvious, how come he was the only one to have noticed? "Cuz they're smart enough not to make a big deal about it!" He though "think about it; would you really bring it to light? You have no idea who's in and who's not, so if you spill the beans, William's gonna start another Tyrant project!" John winced at the through that that thing in the tank was Adam at one point. If it was, it shared no resemblance to him whatsoever.  
John worked on the whole 'brain chemistry' aspect of the project. William did too but he had never talked to him, only handed him some papers with a set of well-written instructions. John had the misfortune to touch William as the papers passed hands. His fingers where thin and bony and the skin of his hands were cold and clammy. John instantly pulled away. William gave him a look, brooding anger, like he was telling himself not to let his brain go A.W.O.L on him.  
John was told not to take much recognition of the notes, to simply just do his work and mind his own business, but how could he with figures like this?? From what he could remember from the list of neurotransmitters and level indicators, the numbers where totally screwed up. The serotonin and norepinephrine were much too low, but the dopamine was outrageously high, almost completely off the charts. John didn't want to be around if ever that 'Tyrant' thing got loose, because it was going to be one hell of a schizophrenic.  
It was a sick joke, really, to put the staff lounge right next to the room where the Tyrant was stored, even with a window displaying it in all it's glory. Sometimes, if you watched it long enough, it would even twitch... John never got to watch it sleep for too long, because if any of his 'friends' caught him, he would be accused for being as wacko as Birkin. John watched Birkin out in the specimen area, holding his cup of coffee, too engrossed in admiring his work of art to do anything else. "You goin' out there for a cosy chat or not?" "Yeah..." Breathed John, getting some backbone for a change. "Yeah, I'm gonna talk to that. man." He got up, and fell over again. He had had one too many Irish coffees and was slightly out of it. Maybe that's why he got a sudden sense of invulnerability towards the one man on the team that could kill him and get away with it. How about that? Instant hero; just add alcohol. John shambled mindlessly out into the glowing, pristine whiteness of the specimen room, and over to the unmoving figure of a man that looked intently at his sick abomination. "Ahem." . Nothing happened. John was almost too scared to look into his face to make out for any signs of acknowledgment. "AHEM." He said, louder this time. As he bought his hand away from his mouth, it was shaking like a leaf. The figure next to him gradually turned his head to face him with his sickening inhuman stare. When William fixed his attention solely on John, he became so panicked that he was gripped by a strange sickness in his gut.  
  
"Yes?" Said Birkin, his voice was shockingly deep. From a man with his features, a high, feverish tone was to be expected, but not this deep booming voice. It wasn't so much booming, as it was rumbling. "What do you want?" "Err, I don't want anything! I just want to talk!" "You've never talked to me before." "That's because . well, you're the project leader and all and I don't want to say the wrong thing.". William smiled, sarcastically "And that's all that's been keeping you all?" "Yes, actually." John started to laugh. "You know, it took me a couple of Irish coffees to get the nerve to come up here and chat to you!" He started to break down into hapless giggles, but when he saw the blank look on Williams' face, he sobered up straight away "Instant moron. Follow the same directions as seen above.." "So." Began John, attempting to make small talk. "Annette." "What do you know about my wife?" William said, emotion drained from his voice. It may have been Johns imagination, but William slightly stressed the 'my wife' part. "Does she have a sister?"- -William snapped his head at John and, with rage from the bottom of his heart, transformed his once emotionless look into a threatening, burning, evil glare. "KIDDING!!!" Shrieked John. "KIDDING!!! KIDDING!!! KIDDING." William began to calm down. "Kidding. Only kidding.only kidding." William had completely changed back.  
John allowed a short while to pass while he got his nerves back, but in that while, he seriously wondered weather William had siblings. A man as fucked up as him was more likely to be an only child, or at least he hoped he was an only child "Oh God. The horror. More of 'em" That was an unsettling notion. "So," Tried John, again. "Why are you here?" "." William looked back to the Tyrant. "You mean with him?" "Yup. I mean, it's your coffee break, man and you spend it like this." "Yes." "Why?" William sighed. "There's a fair chance it won't ever wake up from its sleep, do you know that?" "It . it stands to reason." "It's the proto-type you see. We'll gather all the information we need from it and then we'll just . get rid of it. Such a waste." John felt very uncomfortable with this line of conversation, but in an effort to get some insight into the man, he played along. "But. He'll be going for a good cause, the development of his own species" "And maybe the destruction of ours." Said William, Concluded Johns sentence. "But the first of a line of ultimate warriors; it seems respectful to let it live." "But it's a martyr." Said John, feeling more daring. "A martyr to its race. Don't deny it its destiny." John paused slightly. "Speaking of martyrs." He looked down at his hands. "Where did you get that thing?" William stared down at his coffee, whisking it with the little plastic fork that the coffee guy gave them. Why a fork? Because he couldn't find a spoon, that's why. "Do you mean the original structure?" John slowly nodded. "Well," Said Birkin. "It was human once. but like all our 'special deliveries', we got it from the R.P.D." ".!" "We mainly get organs removed from less insured bodies in the R.P.D morgue for simple tests on various membrane. We used to test on animal tissue, but animal protesters were after our ass the whole way." He snickered. "Did you know that there are more animal rights protesters than human rights? The next logical step was to use human tissue, and to be honest, it gave much more reliable results." "You still haven't answered my question." Said John, wanting to get to the bottom of this now that he had asked. William smiled, and then he started to laugh aloud. "Mr. Howe, you are thorough in your enquire." He went back to stirring his coffee. "The Tyrant was just an unnamed man the police Chief brought in. Just some smelly old beggar who died in the gutter. No mystery there." -William spilt some of the coffee on himself on his hand. It clearly was quite painful, but he was hiding it very well. "." John dared himself to push his luck further. "Maybe Irons registered the man as unnamed because that's what you wanted him to be." He said the defiance in his voice forced its way onto his face, but once he got it there, it almost became him. William stared daggers at him. "Then just where do you think I got this structure from??" John took a deep breath and then made his deduction, taking in mind Williams' peculiar nature. "It wouldn't have been some bum on a street corner; you wouldn't accept a piece of meat of such poor quality. It had to have been someone of a certain physical and mental perfection or else you would've turned it down, and slabs like that don't fall on the market often, if ever and even if it did, it would get snapped up by another research conglomerate before you would get a chance to order it, so you must have prepared the meat yourself."- -"You mean Adam, don't you?" John was taken aback by William's sudden bluntness. ".Yes-sir." William concentrated on his coffee. A long while passed ................. ".Are you gonna drink that?" - -"He deserved it you know." William blurted out, critically. "Everything he got he had coming and I made such a good use of such a waste of a man." ".He had intelligence."- -"He didn't use it ever. All he did was build his body like a primitive animal in the jungle!" "He obviously used his intellect a bit or else he wouldn't be a tech here." "You fail to see what I'm saying! He wasted his gift and I took him and made him something incredible!" "If it's so incredible, why didn't you subject yourself??" William laughed "Oh, Mr. Howe, if only that was an achievable possibility. It loses its faculties when we alter it, wiping its brain of all human idea. If I ever became a thing like that, I would want to be able to experience it all." ".You're serious, aren't you?" "Deathly. Can you even comprehend such supremacy? Doesn't it astonish you, the mere understanding that no being has ever come close to your . capability.?" "A rocket launcher will soon solve that one."- -"How ignorant of you, Howe." Spat Birkin. "No," said John. "If you wanted a thing that had absolute power, then you should make something that weapons wouldn't affect, no, that weapons would help it rather than destroy it!" William didn't move. He just smiled. "We're working on that currently." "How come I've never heard of it?" ".Annette simply doesn't just pop in to visit me for her own satisfaction, you know. She is as capable as I when it comes to biochemistry, so us Birkin's are indeed the ones holding the prospects to Umbrella." "Then If you two have made something that sounds superior to the T-virus, why is this lab still in commission?" Birkin smiled and said almost musically; "It won't be for much longer." Birkin suddenly turned to John. "Now go back to your acquaintances and don't converse of what I have told you here at present." "And why the hell not?" ".Think of Adam." . . . . . . John didn't hang around for much longer. He walked slowly back to his friends, resisting the indescribable urge to run as fast as he possibly could.  
The door to the lounge clacked open and he dived in, as though his life depended on it. "What?" Said Rabbitson tightening his bandanna; he did that when he was nervous "What the hell did he say to you??" "Man, he is just fucked up!" "John," Said Henry. "I didn't send you out there to that freak just so you can forget everything he said!!!" -"SHH!" Hissed Rabitson. "He's moving." All eyes turned to William back in the specimen room. He was finishing his coffee. Whenever William finished his coffee, he always went back to work right after. "He's coming!" Warned Rabbitson "Drill, people!" The drill was simple; everyone ducked and covered until William went by the coffee room and left them alone. They really didn't want to talk to William Everyone dived onto the ground, as close under the window as possible; the further beneath the window, the less likelihood of one being seen. Everyone fell silent as the footsteps got closer and closer and- -They didn't pass, but instead, the door clicked open and Birkin leaned in. He just looked down on them like they where nothing, and they looked up at him from their crumpled heap on the floor, four grown men squeezed in the small space between wall and a coffee table. Surprisingly, Birkin just smiled down at them and at John. He didn't say anything, he just left. "Well shit." Said Steve who was under the coffee table. "Made us look like a bunch of. of FOOLS" -"Some fools don't have to be made!" Called back William. "Dammit! How the hell could he have heard us?!" "Birkin hears all." Said John, jokingly. "Not fucking funny, man!!" Steve yelled "You think that just because you've talked to him once it means you understand him or something, hu?" "Understand him more than you do, Steve. They guy just loves his work." "'Just'? The man's a sick freak." -"Cut the crap." Said Henry. "Nothing like this has ever gotten in the way of our pal-ship before. Time out, people." They all climbed off the floor and each other, brushing the crap off their coats. ".Okay then." ".Alrighty.."  
  
***  
  
May 10, 1998: One of the higher-ups assigned me to take care of a new experiment. It looks like a skinned gorilla. Feeding instructions were to give it live animals. When I threw in a pig, the creature seemed to be playing with it. tearing off the pig's legs and pulling out the guts before it actually started eating.  
  
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.  
  
***  
  
Just when John thought the 121's where as demented as the manufactured creatures could come, a new species was announced to the Researchers this morning; the Ma2's. The 121's or 'Hunter' as they where called, where green scaly things, as big as a man and unnaturally muscular. They had almost glowing yellow eyes that where incredible for night time seeking. That was one of their main advantages, that and their speed, but considerably noticeable was their intelligence. Unlike the human test subjects for exposure to the T-virus (the Tyrant was engineered), the hunter had considerable intellect and was capable of simple tasks, like opening doors, or working switches. The humans exposed to the T-virus became zombies, or at least they where indistinguishable from the types on the late night horror movies. This 'zombie' like condition was actually an unexpected side affect rather than something intended from the start. As for these new Ma2's or the 'Chimera', their name suggests what it is. It had a main body structure like a spindly skinned ape, and piercing eyes. They where more motion sensitive than Hunters to assist in tracking. They had a hooked claw on one hand and a strange eye-like structure on its chest, and it's mouth was like a spiders, only opened out more. They where a little bit of everything. If the Hunters where in the house, you couldn't run; they would track you down, but the chimeras were bastards. If you ran as fast as you could, you may just get past, but if it got hold of you even just a little then it was all over. They stuck onto your back if they could and take your head off, but that rarely happened. They would just end up cutting you up bit by bit.  
Of course, they didn't feed them people; that would be too impractical. Usually it was pigs or cows at the biggest, and maybe something exotic if they could get hold of it. They all knew though that if Birkin had his way then those things would get a lot more human meat, infact, if there were any leftovers from the tests involving human remains, then they would be rewarded for consuming them. "Good God, you're an ugly thing." John said, peering through the bars into the cage and at the strange skinned monkey creature. "'Ma2'" Read John. "Isn't that a freeway in England?" Bill Rabbitson stepped up to John. "Oh, hey, Bunny." Said John, taking his eyes off the thing only for a second. "Look, don't get near this thing." He told him. "Last week one of security got too close to one of the Hunters. That poor bastard was dead before he even had a chance to scream and the Hunters had a shorter reach than these things." "I'm not fucking getting near that, no need to warn me." -Someone tapped John on the shoulder. "JESUS!!" Even the Ma2 jumped out of its skin. John turned around, extremely angry at whoever had done this to him- -But then the anger dissolved when he saw who it was. "Doctor Birkin!" He said with a delirium in his voice, as well as his appearance. "What-a- surprise!!" "Calm down, Mr. Howe." William said calmly. His eyes wandered over to the Ma2, and a quick smile flickered across his features. He turned back to John and muttered; "I'm giving you leave, Howe." "What? Why?" "Not a word. Don't let Rabbitson hear you." He said promptly. "You must not come down to the labs tonight, Howe. Not at all." "Why?" ". Pay attention to my warning." William hurried off without another word  
  
***  
  
May 11 1998: At around 5 a.m., Scott woke me up. Scared the shit out of me, too. He was wearing a protective garment that looked like a space suit. He handed me another one and told me to put it on. Said there'd been an accident in the basement lab. I just knew something like this would happen. Those assholes in Research never rest, even at night.  
  
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.  
  
***  
  
"What is this?" Asked John to Steve. Steve gave him what was clearly a design of decontamination suit. Steve was wearing one and for once he wasn't smoking a cig. "There was an accident in the labs." -Johns heart stopped.- ". Pay attention to my warning." He heard ring through his mind once more. What the fuck was this?? "What the hell happened??" He ordered. "The tank broke." He replied. The shit-head didn't appear too worried about it. "The tank that cleans out all the chemicals and stores them until they can be 'disposed of in a sanitary manner'" "Then why the hell don't they hit the emergency drainage system!?" Steve paused. "You have to see what happened." Steve tossed him the suit. "But I ain't gonna let you out 'till you put that shit on. One whiff of the virus and you're fucked." John didn't bother arguing. He saw what happened to a victim of the T- virus, but only on a dead body. It took up to a week for a live man to become one of the undead. John looked at his watch. "Four forty?! Shit!" John startled himself into thinking. "Hey. You didn't tell me how the tank broke." "One of they guys went mad and started shooting. Broke the tank and the whole lower levels are flooded up to your knees." "Why did he go mad?" "That I don't know, but you have to see what's happened." John followed Steve down to the labs. It took them long enough, but when John saw what was going down, he . he didn't know what to think. Everyone in research was rushing around, yelling excitedly at each other and passing papers and charts around. "What's doing down??" Barked John. This had gone on long enough.- -Someone tapped him on the shoulder, but rather than jumping out of his skin, he turned slowly.- "Doctor Howe." "Doctor Birkin. What the fuck did you do!?" "Now, now. You are in no position to throw around wild accusations." "You told me not to come down here on my shift and if I had and was exposed to the leak, then I would've been infected." "Then why aren't you thanking me for my warning you away?" "You did this didn't you??" He hissed. William sighed. "Must you be like this?" "You made that guy go mad, didn't you?? What the fuck could you possibly gain from this stunt!?" ".You haven't seen it yet, have you?" "Seen what?" William led John away. "In room 002." He said. "Dwells my latest experiment. it was more of an accident than deliberate; I'll have you know, Mr. Howe. It's roots hang down into the basement level, this level and they suck up the water from this man made lake." "What the hell are you talking about?!?!?" ".I've entitled it 'Plant 42', and I'd recommend you to stand very clear." Birkin opened the door to room 002. "It's only small, but it's growing very quickly" John didn't know what to make of it at first. Once it must have been a small herb like the ones growing in pots all around the mansion but now it was a humungous mass of meaty tentacles focused around a slowly pulsating centre. what looked like. a heartbeat- -A small part of the masses tentacles darted at him and he jumped out of the way almost entirely instinctively. Birkin slammed the door violently closed on its disgusting limbs that retreated from the pain with a strange screeching noise. Though desperation was in his actions, he didn't reveal any fear on his features.- ". Fuck." Gasped John. William looked at his fellow scientist on the floor, panting and sweating in his sudden burst of adrenaline. "Was it good for you too?" Joked William with a smirk on his face. "I was nearly fucking plant food!!!" "Well, you'd be of more nutritional value than a bottle of Baby Bio." "DID YOU KNOW THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?!?" "I sincerely didn't." "You DID, didn't you?!" "It wasn't that aggressive when I last beheld it."  
  
***  
  
May 12, 1998: I've been wearing the damn space suit since yesterday. My skin's getting grimy and feels itchy all over. The goddamn dogs have been looking at me funny, so I decided not to feed them today. Screw 'em.  
  
Michel Dees, Kennel manager  
  
***  
  
It's hard to have a coffee break in a decontamination suit, infact it was impossible. Not eating or drinking until the airborne of the virus had been cleared up. John and they guys were having their break in the usual spot in the lounge facing the specimen room, but eerily and for the first time in the region of a year or two, Birkin hadn't shown. At first they thought he was late, which would've been unusual in itself; he watched that thing every day, even on his holidays, but now he hadn't shown.  
"Something is very wrong here." John thought aloud. "No shit." Barked Henry. "We've got a big ol' weed growing down in the lab!!" -"Is it me," Interrupted Steve. "Or is this goddamn suit really itchy?" "Damn straight!" Agreed Henry. "I'm okay in here." Said Rabbitson. "You're okay everywhere!" -"I'm not getting anything either." Said John. "Maybe you guys have a skin condition or something; a bad reaction maybe." "Has to be." Said Henry.- -John remembered William's warnings the night before the accident.- -"Henry, Steve? Where were you guys when the tank broke?" "I was in the next room." Said Henry. "I heard screaming, some dude going on about zombies, then there was this shoot out and it must've got hit in the crossfire." "I was in the lab at the time." Said Steve. "The guy went wack-o. The security guys had to nail him." "Bunny? Where were you?" "I was in the mansion. resting." -"Hey, Johnny." Said Henry. "Didn't you have a shift on that day?" ".I was given leave." "Bad luck. You missed everything." Maybe he had, but John had a horrible feeling about this. Everyone who was in and around the lab area at the time was getting itchy skin. When the shifts started back up again, John asked Rabbitson to stay behind. "What's up?" He asked. "I'm telling you this because I think you're the only one I can trust one hundred percent, Bunny." Bill cringed. "Is it about anything to do with Birkin?" "He told me just before the tank broke not to go down to the labs that night and now, everyone who was down there is getting itchy skin." Bunny looked worried. "We're wearing protective clothing! You can't mean that they got infected." "Itchiness is the first symptom. We're in the research team! You know what it does!" "Then why did they give up clothing that doesn't work?" "It does, but the airborne swept across the lower levels very quickly that night, before the suits where issued, so as long as we don't come into physical contact with one of them, we won't have to worry" "But Birkin would know that without a doubt!" "That's what I'm worried about. Bunny, keep an eye out for him. I want to speak to him."  
  
***  
  
May 13, 1998: Went to the infirmary because my backs is all swollen and feels itchy. They put a big bandage on it and told me I didn't need to wear the suit any more. All I wanna do is sleep.  
  
Michel Dees, Kennel manager  
  
***  
  
Some weird shit was defiantly going down. Most of the staff had come down with 'the flu' and John had to work overtime along with Rabbitson. "Bunny." He hissed. At first, Bill didn't think he had heard it because the suit reduced his hearing but then he saw John waving at him frantically from one of the storage rooms. Bill looked around the room before going after John, the only other life forms he could see where the 121's and the Ma2's in their cages and they weren't going to tell if Bill had a little chat while on the job. "Did you find Birkin?" Asked John in desperation, dragging Bill into the room and closing the door to a jar. "It's like he's hiding. " He replied. "No one's seen him since the accident with the plant yesterday." "Oh no." Whined John. He was becoming a little fed up with all the 'horrific accidents' going on. "What happened now?" "One of the techs went down to point 42 for some chemical tests when he though it was dormant and it got him. He was sucked dry of all his bodily fluids, slowly." Bill then started to do sound affects. "SHHHLOPPE!!! Like a ripe tomato. He went all gooey and lumpy when it started and he was still alive at the time"- -"That's enough." -"It got a few others too." "I said I'd heard enough!" John paused. "God. Good thing Birkin closed that damn door with me." "But then if he knew all this 'tank business' would end up with an outbreak, why did he bother to save you?" John didn't answer himself but continued with Bill. "Bunny, are there any others like us? Uninfected, I mean." Bill shook his head. "God, the only other dude I know for sure is still okay is Martin Crackhorn ." Bill tightened his bandanna. "I hope you're wrong! EVERYONE'S fucking coming down with this shit!" "Shh, someone will hear if you yell like that." Warned John. "Stay cool for a bit longer. We'll call someone, like the R.P.D if this shit gets really out of hand." "We can't call the R.P.D!" Bill yelled. "Birkin gets his sample flesh from there so they're not going to help!" "Then whom the hell do we turn to??" Billy thought critically for a moment. "I know this guy who works at the R.P.D S.T.A.R.S. He's my best pal and he's a good guy to rely upon. A very good guy. His team-mates are all really good people and I'm totally positive they'd help." ".Are you sure?" "God, John. Don't you have faith? I said I'm positive Chris will help." ".You think you can get to him?" "The phones are ripped out so I'll have to go on foot." "Go tomorrow night. Hopefully by that time we've gotten a few uninfected on our side. Go talk to Martin at break. I'll keep an eye out for Birkin. I'm going to have to have a very long chat with that .man." "Wait," Said Rabbitson, suddenly. "Birkin isn't working on the 'Plant 42', Henry is. He leads the works down there and shit so the project was assigned to him." "Moron..." John said. "Why the hell hasn't he ordered that things extermination??" "An opportunity to study it." Bill said grimly. "They only recently just started working on countermeasures like a weed killer type chemical that should be applied to the plants root if it got out of hand." "There are shoots springing up all around the lab and they haven't killed it yet??" "I know!" "And it's killed a few staff members and they still stay their hand??" "I know, I know!" Bill paused. "What with this supposed infection and all, maybe they're delaying it's extermination because they know it's not going to make a difference." "But why gather the information if it won't make a difference?" Bill looked into Johns eyes seriously. "Maybe they're expecting someone to stop by and collect it?" John looked thoughtful for a moment, but then broke out of his train of thought. "This is all speculation." He said. "We should stick to what we know for sure and work on a way out of here." "We're not even sure if everyone's infected yet!" "Bunny, we worked on the effects of that damn thing and now after a leak in the tank that stores waste T-virus, and everyone who was in the labs came down with itchy skin, the first symptom, you still have doubt?" Bill smiled nervously. "I really hope it is just a bad reaction with the fabric." "You'll have a bad reaction with my fist if you keep trying to explain away what you don't want to except." He replied. Rabbitson looked shocked for a second but then he smiled. "I'll talk to Martin, but it'll be as hard as finding a needle in a hay stack. He hides out a lot." "Why don't you try his chamber first, dumb-ass?" He said blankly. "But before you do anything, try to get in contact your little 'S.T.A.R.S' friend. We need a shoulder to fall back on if this falls apart, okay?" Bill nodded. "Right. Gotacha. But if any of this involves going near that plant"- -"Don't worry; no shit-sucking plants involved." "Good." He said in relief but shuddered involuntarily. "That damn piece of kale gives me the creeps." He kicked the door open and turned his eyes back onto the clipboard. He came up to a 'Ma2' and it stared at him dangerously with its tiny motion perceptive pupils. Bill flicked some sheets over on the board and equipped a pen and after he had done scribbling some notes onto the paper heavy-handedly he looked up at it and hollered; "Yeah, what do you want?!" It didn't stop staring at him and Bill marched over to the subsequent pen.  
John grabbed some lab resources that his branch needed and shuffled out of their, his hands full. He nearly dropped a few beakers, but caught them and balanced them proficiently on top of the stack. John stumbled blindly out of the room with faith in God that people will watch where they were going for once; It was a freakin' lab for Gods sake! They were supposed to be looking out for those with lab supplies shambling down the corridors but some of the researchers and even techs lumbered heavily down the corridors heads buried in their notes. It was an accident waiting to happen. Now that John had gotten on the subject, William was without a doubt one of those men too engrossed in his work to look where he was going. Some of the lesser men walked right into the coffee guy numerous times: He was the type who if he saw someone headed for him who wasn't looking where they were going, would purposefully just stand there with a shit-load of polystyrene cups full of scalding coffee. William would've been subjected to this but though he, like all the others, definitely does not look where he is going, he somehow manages to evade him, usually gracefully spinning out of the way and snatching a cup at the same time. He didn't drink it until the break would end, quickly guzzling it down in the Tyrants' chamber. He stuck to this routine every day, every single day like clockwork! John found it amusing yet sinister and he would wait to observe him come out his subdivision and begin his little journey at the same speed, at the same time... Some people would say that William was boring, that a man who did the same things every day wasn't exciting and that anyone who knew his must be aching all over for a new experience; John knew a few men in this establishment that would heckle him, saying that a real man would be bored senseless by having the same thing to do every day, than a normal man would need to get out and do something different. John felt sour toward them. Watching him closely, he didn't see pointless repetition! He saw a man perfecting himself. Birkin was a man of perfection, he strived for perfection and he was perfection. How can a man be good at what he does if he doesn't become what he does? It enraged John when his colleagues ridiculed such a man. "Have you been sniffing some of this shit?" He thought. "You're starting to sound like Birkin, what with all the talk of excellence and perfecting techniques." But Birkin was on his side. He may be apparently iniquitous, but he seemed to . to like him. "God, that don't matter. He's done something big and he's hiding from you because he must understand that you're conscious of what's going down." Birkin must've been watching him. "*GASP* Conspiracy theory! Don't be such a shit. Just because you've made a dangerous ally and he somehow knows all about you doesn't mean. err, what was the question again?" "Fucking brain. Shut up!" He whispered  
  
***  
  
May 14, 1998: Found another blister on my foot this morning. I ended up dragging my foot all the way to the dogs' pen. They were quiet all day, which is weird. Then I realized some of them had escaped. If anybody finds out, I'll have my head handed to me.  
  
Michel Dees, Kennel manager  
  
***  
  
Everyone was silent and for once they closed the shutters to the specimen room. Rabbitson was missing and had been since John had spoken to him. He didn't turn up at morning break and now even after shift hours he didn't turn up. "Birkin has to have been involved" Was his first impression. "Whoa! Every time shit goes down, Birkin has something to do with it. You sent Bunny to find Birkin and he isn't seen since. What would you think? Wait, I am thinking." "Where is Bunny?" He asked plainly. There was no reply. None of them knew. There was a name dancing through his mind over and over and over like a torturing demon. Adam, it said. Bill Rabbitson went after the truth, after a man capable of soulless murder and now he's gone missing. All of his feelings, his fears and apprehension over this whole notion boiled down to one simple thing: John felt sick. "God." He said in a placid sound.  
Someone opened the door and everyone turned, daring to hope it was Rabbitson, but it wasn't. It was Crackhorn. "You are missing Bill Rabbitson?" He asked. "John, may I speak with you?"- -"We're all Bunnies friends!" Henry answered. "I know, but what I need to say is Johns business." Crackhorn lead John out with Henry and Steve fuming. He looked about the specimen room before telling him what he needed to know. "Rabbitson came to my chamber last night speaking of an infection and that he and you are to contact the S.T.A.R.S." "Yes!" Said John. "He told me you appeared uninfected." "I too have noticed the version of events, maybe not as early on as you but I have noticed." "What do you intend?" Crackhorn shook his head. "I have no idea. I believed I could trust no one as I thought those who where uninfected where the catalysts of the affair." "What happened to Bunny?" John said. "If you're not coming with, then at least tell me what happened to him." "John." He said, sighing. "I heard gunshots late at night." ". . .Oh my God. . ." "There is no guarantee it was Rabbitson they where firing at!" "There was every guarantee! I told him to get in contact with the S.T.A.R.S, one of them was his friend but all the phones where ripped out. He must've tried to go on foot." "But we can't be sure it was him!!"- -"Bunny goes missing after he tries to get in contact with the outside and you heard gunshots and somehow it can't be him???" John looked down at the floor. "God.I feel sick to my stomach with all this. I want to just end it now." -"Birkin ordered the armed guards." John looked up, tears in his eyes. "He what?" "I was within ear shot at the time he ordered them. He didn't let the change be announced, however. He spoke about catching traitors trying to leave the facility off guard." "When was this?" He asked breathlessly. "About a day ago." "." John looked critically. "Did you see how bad some of them were getting?" He asked. Martin nodded. "Yes." Martin covered his mouth with his hand. He looked like he was on the brink of breaking down. " Some of them look like the living dead already, just with faculties." "We have to get out of here." He said. "How do we do that? More to the point, why should we?" "Do you want to wait around until they start changing??" "I don't want to hang around even now." Martin looked at John with a fear in his eyes, a fear that stirred him up. "I've been hearing strange things." He whispered uneasily. "Strange scratching noises. mainly in the courtyard." ". Something's gotten out, hasn't it?" "That's impossible. The 121s and Ma2's are all there." John thought about that for a moment. "What about the Tyrant-retrievers?" "The what?" "The zombie dogs; the Cerberus." "You mean we're still continuing that project?? We've learnt all we can from them already." "But the order to destroy them hasn't passed. The guys at 'White Umbrella' want us to keep hold of them until they're certain those things useless now." "Whose job is it to look after those thing??" Demanded Martin, distraughtly. "Michel Dees. He looks after most of the things in here, mainly because he seems incapable of disgust." John felt awkward to refer to the next name "William. occasionally comes down to the pens to admire his work." John remembered seeing Dees at the pens. "God. Dees was there this morning, scared the life out of me. He was dragging his foot along the floor just like a zombie. He must've known that those things have gotten out." "No, those things got out later in the day. I didn't hear the noises until lunch." Martin held his stomach. He seemed to be truly disturbed by it all. "Martin, you know a few techs, right? Tell as many as you can of the affairs! It's the only way. We're not the only one with our necks on the line."  
  
***  
  
May 15, 1998: My first day off in a long time and I feel like shit. Decided to go visit Nancy anyway, but when I tired to leave the estate, I was stopped by armed guards. They said the company's ordered that no one leaves the ground. I can't even make a phone call - all the phones have been ripped out! What kind of bullshit is this?!  
  
Michel Dees, Kennel manager.  
  
***  
  
John was sniffing around the mansion looking for clues as to what was going on. He was told regularly by his superiors not to, that the mansion was a dangerous place but he didn't care.  
John was snooping around the room with the grand piano, a room that the execs and higher ups used for after dinner entertainment, one of them William. John had been looking around the estate for hours without a single lead but his determination was what kept him going and finally it paid off.  
  
In a bin in the corner of the hallow room was a piece of semi scorched paper. On it was the helipad chart, only it was slightly different from the ones on the notice boards. The pad was due for use in a few days time and one of the names on the list. was Birkin. "Fucking rat!" Hissed John. Birkin was due to get out of here before things really turned to shit, as was some other higher ups like Ellen Smith and some of the techs.-  
-John felt his heart skip mid-beat...- - .His name was on there, scribbled on in pen only it had been crossed off in pencil. John recognised the handwriting from the charts he was handed on the brain chemistry of the Tyrant; it was William's handwriting. "He was going to take you with, out of this nightmare! So you wouldn't suffer the same fate." The only person on the list that was still uninfected other than him was William. John looked at the date of take off in the grids of the chart. The chopper was due to take off on the day John estimated that everyone would've turned. "And the turned can't get on the helicopter. It must've been a safety measure." Johns name had been scribbled through hurriedly with pencil. Birkin must've changed his mind. "Birkin must've known I was planning to start telling people. Dammit! I only told one man to start off with to get it off my chest and now it's gone to shit! The chopper is the only way out of here and . and that's the way we're going."  
  
***  
  
May 16, 1998: Rumour's going around that a researcher who tried to escape last night was shot. My entire body feels hot and itchy and I'm sweating all the time now. I scratched the swelling on my arm and a piece of rotting flesh just dropped off. Wasn't until I realized the smell was making me hungry that I got violently sick.  
  
Michel Dees, kennel manager.  
***  
  
His friends didn't turn up for work today, none of them did. Only he was in the holding pens, - -And his heart stopped when he saw the consequences of the lack of staff and maintenance checks.- Something had happened during the night, a power cut or something. the cell doors to some of the pens had been smashed and shredded through. The bars of the cells where supposed to be electrically charged. "Shit." He muttered, a feeling of dread leaking into him... John felt as though the whole place had already turned. Before, the mansion labs were full of life but now, everywhere he went there was no one . it was as though the facility was empty.- -Someone tapped him on the shoulder-  
John turned slowly around, feeling a longing for it to be a friendly face but knowing who it must've been- -It was Birkin. "Birkin!" He hissed bitterly. The man was smiling a sickly, abnormal smile. "I am he." He replied almost curiously. "You bastard! What the hell his going on?!" William unhurriedly looked over Johns shoulder at the disaster behind him and then causally looked back into Johns scowling features. "My, my." He said sounding melodramatically surprised. "Whatever in the world happened here??" -"I"- -"Now now, Mr. Howe. I am not to be held responsible for any of this." "This is because of that tank bursting! It's all your fault!!" "How mine?" He replied, smiling. "It was obvious from square one!" "Wish you'd discontinue the shouting." Birkin said. "It's giving me a migraine." "The gall!! You don't take this seriously, do you?!" "Oh, Mr. Howe..." He chuckled but that odd, deep throaty noise died abruptly. "You have no idea.." "About what??" He barked, boldly daring to infuriate Birkin for the answers he held. "You've fucked us all around in this square dance for too long now, William Birkin! You did something to the guy who busted the tank, didn't you? You planned this all from the start! It would've been too risky and expensive to design and build an environment for Plant 42 on such short notice, so you made it unofficially; you just needed some poor sap, a guy who's not going to give any evidence against you." "Oh, Howe." Birkin said, sighing. "Why ever would I do that? Umbrella can afford it." "But the plant is carnivorous and highly dangerous, so if you made it as free as that officially, any deaths will be entirely Umbrellas fault and would look bad but this way any deaths wouldn't be the fault of the company." "There would be little point in such an elaborate hoax. It would be cost ineffective." - And that's when it hit him. ". .Umbrella doesn't know about this, do they?"  
William's eyes widened. "They know. It was companies orders not to let anything leak." "And who receives and issues the companies orders to the teams?? You do!" John grinned wide a satisfying glow filled him. He was sure he had worked it all out. "You're doing this because the company will fund your research into the new virus you mentioned to me a lot more if you destroy this facility thus making your chemical plant the only research centre in Raccoon. That way, it would receive the entire amount of funding distributed to Racoon labs, rather than it being split between two facilities! You love your life's work so much that you'd kill us all for it." William was frowning low and dangerously, vexed that his tenderly executed plot had just been snuffed out. Umbrella would get all the blame once it found out about the loss of the mansion facility I the horrendous genetic blasphemes that where assembled within it. No one for a second would dream that the blame could be on one man for using a diabolical companies own bio weapons against it. Birkin had made quite a smoke screen. "Rabbitson is dead, you know." William said unexpectedly. "What was it you used to call him? 'Bunny'. Wasn't it? Sweet." William chuckled. He didn't sound suited with that word coming out of his sick lips. "A play on the 'B' in Bill and the 'Rabbit' in Rabbitson." "Don't pretend you know him."- -"The name was thought up by his friend Chris Redfield of the R.P.D branch of S.T.A.R.S when they met in the Air force. They've been friends for a long time now and they meet regularly at 'Emmys', a restaurant close to the City limits. He wears a bandanna for luck and his hairstyle has nothing to do with any African origins. It is, in fact, natural, despite everything people say." ".How the hell do you know that, you sick"- "You have a girlfriend you picked up at your. 'buddy' Steve's engagement party named Ada Wong. After a quick one-night stand, you thought the earth had moved and decided she was 'the one'. Little do you know that she deems you to be somewhat underprivileged in bed and that she is an Umbrella-hired spy using you to research into these affairs." "You're lying." "No, she says that if you fucked a mouse it probably wouldn't notice"- -"Not about the bed thing!!!! She can't be a spy." "She's as cool headed, no, even more so than I and you think she's a normal woman?" ".But ." - He was lying- "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." "Yet more so than zombies, hunters, chimeras and the perfectly engineered soldier 'just chillin' in the specimen room while you down your coffees and discuss brain chemistry? Throw in 'yours truly' in the staring role of 'mad scientist number one' and you've got yourself the most difficult-to-believe notion since Darwin decided to rock the world with his theory of evolution." "Even if no one will believe. . ." "You'll what? You didn't finish your little summary, Mr. Howe. If no one believes you, you have nothing to hope for." William smiled. ". You." "Yes me." "STOP finishing my sentences!!"- -A thought crossed his mind. John had been searching for this man for so long since the plant first sprouted and now he could ask him whatever he wanted. ".Why did you tell me all this??? HU? Why the hell are you even doing this to me?? You didn't bother with Bunny, so why are you still messing with me??" Birkin smiled. "You seem capable." "Of what?? You're not making any sense!!" ". Never mind." William started to walk away, but paused and turned back to the enraged man. "If I were you, I'd start packing. Some of them, some of your work buddies are starting to turn. With those in the mansion, the Hunters loose in the courtyard and the chimeras running around in the power room, it'll be a task escaping." "There's still hope."  
***  
  
MaY 19. FevEr goNE But ITChY. HUngRy anD EAt DOgGie fOod. tchy ITcHy SCotT cAMe uGlY FacE So kILLed HIm . TaSTy.  
  
ItcHY. TaStY ~.  
  
***  
  
John had locked himself in a storeroom in the lab facility. John ran there, chased by some of the things his former friends had become. John recognised them but didn't wait around to see if they recognised him. He must have been in denial, or shock. He was sitting on boxes of ammunition for a nine millimetre something that he desperately wanted right now and didn't feel a thing, not even fear for his own life. "'I seem capable' Birkin told me. Capable of what? There are zombies running around out there and I don't care! Either I'm a heartless bastard like Birkin or ." John didn't quite know how to finish that sentence off. "Maybe that's the potential William saw in me.I'm sick, like him." It was a ridiculous notion but it was the best he could come up with. "And where the hell is Martin?" Martin Crackhorn hadn't shown up for the past few days. He wasn't infected . was he? John paused. Was he the only one that was uninfected? Was this all part of Birkin's plans or did they just screw up in one big way? Did he want John to survive so that his conspiracy plan of geniuses was witnessed by at least one man? Was John going to die of starvation or dehydration in this room, or was he going to get ripped to death by- -There was a gunshot, muted by distanced. A dieing gasping moan sounded made faint by the vastness of the outside area and then a dulled thud. Running footsteps tapped away, barely perceptible by John's ear but he knew who it must have been. -BAM- -Another, only much closer. John stood up. "Hello?!" He called out. He could hear something fall down, scuffing the door slightly as it went and then breathing... a slight panting that scraped into a smearing sound as the man rubbed his face. He then turned and ran down the corridor, a door slammed behind him. "WAIT!" John cried out. He opened the door- -To find that something on the other side was preventing him from doing just that. John shoved at it harder and it started to give, slow moving and on the floor a smear of blood fanned out the further he pushed the door. A corps was blocking the door and John shoved it completely aside, a corpse that he didn't want to see whom it was. A bullet hole was in what was left of its skull; gore freshly seeping from the puncture. John puckered his lips, wanting to ask himself more questions that would have to be left rhetorical. at least for now. William Birkin had put that zombie to sleep. He didn't need to come down to this part of the labs to get where he was headed for. He had come down right to where John was hiding and put to sleep all the monsters that would be in his way. William wanted John to get out but he didn't want him with. John was weary about following him but he had no other choice. It was either that or die.  
  
*** My dearest Alma,  
I sit here trying to think of where to begin, of how to explain in a few simple words all that's happened in my life since we last spoke, and already I fail. I hope this letter finds you well and whole, and that you will forgive the tangents of this pen; this isn't easy for me. Even as I write, I can feel simplest of concepts slipping away, lost to feelings of despair and confusion - but I have to tell you what's in my heart before I can rest. Be patient, and accept that what I tell you is the truth.  
The entire story would take hours for me to tell you, and time is short, so accept theses things as fact: last month there was an accident in the lab and the virus we were studying escaped. All my colleagues who were infected are dead or dying, and the nature of the disease is such that those still living have lost their senses. The virus robs its victims of their humanity, forcing them in their sickness to seek out and destroy life. Even as I write these words, I can hear them, pressing against my locked door like mindless, hungry animals, crying out like lost souls.  
There aren't words true enough, deep enough to describe the sorrow and shame that I feel knowing that I had a hand in their creation. I believe they feel nothing now, no fear or pain - but that they can't experience the horror of what they've become doesn't free me of my terrible burden. I am, in part, responsible for this nightmare that surrounds me.  
In spite of the guilt that is burned into my very being, that will haunt my every breath, I might have tried to survive, if only to see you again. But my best efforts only delay the inevitable; I am infected, and there is no cure for what will follow - except to end my life before I lose the only thing that separates me from them. My love for you.  
Please understand. Please know that I am sorry.  
Martin Crackhorn.  
  
***  
  
William smirked, partially against his will, when he saw that Mr. Howe had made it to the Helipad. He had feared for a minute that he might have accidentally overlooked a few of those disgusting creatures that stalked the labs; Howe was unarmed. William looked down from his viewpoint in the chopper well aware that he was out of the mans reach. A rope ladder was still hung down from where William had climbed up, and John dashed for it. William snatched it away, just as Howe reached it. "If only." He said to himself. "What are you doing?!?!" Screamed Howe over the roar of the 'copter. Williams eyes were caught by saw some of the creatures as they emerged from where John had come. He had been chased and was desperate for sanctuary. "If only." William said aloud. "If only what??! Let me up!! They're coming!!!" The desperation in Johns voice caused William to break down into a few unpleasant giggles. "What the fuck are you doing, you sick bastard?!?!" "If only!!!" William repeated, cackling like a demented old hag. "What the hell is wrong with you, Birkin?!?! Let me up, NOW!" "No can do, Johnny-boy!" William said, pointing a finger mischievously at him. John shot a look back at the zombies that where gaining on him. "I don't fucking have time for this crap now!! Lower the ladder!!!!" "If only you had kept your mouth shut and not asked any questions!!" William yelled down. "Just like I had instructed you to do!!! I would've taken you here myself, given you a new life, everything!!!" "I don't want a new life, I want MY life!!!!" "Shame! I would have let you live, just one man to have witnessed this other than myself but you had to play the inspector and work this all out!! I would've told you after all this, when it was safe for you to know and when this disaster became just yesterday's news, but now you know too much too soon!! Now, you can die knowing you did this to yourself!!!" "You're a fucking screwball, William Birkin!!!" John cried up, now hazardously close to the zombies. "You know I won't talk now if you bring me up!!!" "Umbrella would beat the answers out of you if they ever found you, and I will never let Umbrella find out what really happened here!" William signalled to the pilot to take him up. "You have only yourself to blame!!!" He hollered one last time. "NO!!!!" John screamed up as the zombies got to him. "This is fucking bullshit!!" He cried up from the pile of creatures that had now pinned him to the floor. "Umbrella will find out!!!!!" He cried. "And when they do, I'll be seeing you in HELL!!" John kept screaming, not at the monsters that were tearing pieces out of him, but at the monster that was looking eagerly down at him as the chopper took him away. John swore bravely that Birkin would die for this right up until his very last breath when his gargled, enraged shouts and curses abruptly came to an end. William smiled and nodded to himself, satisfied that the creatures had killed the man and sat back down in the padded chair and closed the door of the helicopter. William rested his head on the chair, leaning back and looking thoughtfully out of the window. He forced back a smiled; it seemed that he had pulled it off, which meant Umbrella funding for his G-virus would sore dramatically. Yes, today had been very good for him indeed as It would meant that he could once again work his life's work with the woman he loved just like old times. "Fly this thing carefully, okay?" Said William to the pilot, closing his eyes tiredly. "I don't want this thing crashing after all that." He let out a deep little chuckle from the back of his throat and let the thrum and the relaxing vibration of the choppers blades lull him into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 


	2. Part 2 Resident Evil 2, Operation Report

Authors Notes: I recently got my e-mail account hacked by my best friends vengeful ex-boyfriend, so any mails sent to my old account I didn't get to see. My new account is defiance_88@hotmail.com and it SHOULD say that on my profile, so please contact me by that if there are any fans out there ^-^'  
  
*Please note that some lines of dialogue are different from the original gaming content*  
  
Ben lay in his rotting bed, slightly drunk, broke, and ignorant. He was supposed to be on a job right now, but. SHIT! He was supposed to be on a job right now!!! He jumped up and fell over a few stacks of C.D's, before landing on the carpet (or at least what could be called a carpet) writhed around, got to his feet, and jumped out the door. - - He forgot his camera- "Fuck the camera!" He said in reply, and practically had to throw himself down the stairs. The elevator didn't work anymore for some unknown reason (he swore that It was something to do with Brian Irons, that fat bastard. He didn't like Ben one bit) and tossed himself down 31 floors of stairs, ran into a few little kids and knocked them flying, and on the last floor, tripped and landed in a puddle that took up the entire width of the isle. He was very, in fact, horrifically late for the interview that was in the media room of the R.P.D, which itself was several blocks from here, and he was told by his boss that 'Police Chief Irons' (the fat bastard) had a very important announcement to make. "God Dammit, I'm gonna get fired again!!" Ben got fired at his old job in L.A and he had only been in the quiet city of Raccoon for about four months, but he had missed just about every important announcement, every public event, and everything else of any interest to anyone in this city, and he was in RACCOON for God's sake! Nothing ever damn happened in Raccoon, well, except for the whole 'cannibal murderous' thing, and that has 'so called' been cleared up. It started to happen just as he came into the city, and two months later, the S.T.A.R.S where sent in, but most of them died in a chemical fire at a mansion lab that was the gangs hideout. But, although the rest of the media had accepted what Irons (the fat bastard) had to say about the whole thing being a disgusting accident, he had been told by a few who where close to the surviving members of S.T.A.R.S that there was a lot more going on than what met they eye. He heard of experiments on a genetic level and the cannibals where accidentally subjected to it. "GOD DAMMIT!!! Taxi!!!!!!" He screamed as the taxi flew past him. That was it. There was only one thing for it. He began to run, lopsidedly, but it was running all the same. He would get there at least, and the damn taxi drivers could smell a broke from a mile away, so he wasn't going to get a ride and good God he couldn't walk all the way there AND be a fairly 'early' sort of late at the same time.  
  
***  
  
Ben burst through the doors of the R.P.D lobby with idiotic grace and tiredly sprinted up to the stand-in receptionist, a cop he knew fairly well named Marvin Branagh. "DUDE!!" "What?" "DUDE! Did I miss anything???" "Hmmm. Well, let's see. THE WHOLE FUCKING THING!" "Shit, dude!! I'm gonna get fired!!" "No, you won't. He didn't say much. Only 'blah blah blah, S.T.A.R.S are this, S.T.A.R.S are that. It was a big waste of media time.'" "Thank God Irons is an asshole!!"- -It echoed and everyone heard, including a shadowy figure on the third floor balcony. A fat shadow. "Uh oh." Said Branagh; quickly shuffling some papers and moving clear out of the way. "Shit dude."- -"Bertolucci!" Hollered the fat stinking figure that was Brian Irons Ben cringed." Whaaaat?" "Join me in the S.T.A.R.S office now!" He grunted, and stormed off. Everyone gave him blank stares that suddenly dissolved into grins when they heard Irons slam the door closed. "Someone's gonna die" Said someone. "Shut up, man." Said Branagh, moving to Ben's defence. " You'd all be shitting yourselves if Irons ever got that pissed with you!" Everyone shut up. "Thanks man." Ben thought to himself. "Now I'M fucking shitting myself." He slowly and forlornly skittered off into the labyrinth of the R.P.D. The S.T.A.R.S office was frigging miles from there. And Ben was tired, his feet hurt, he was peeved, and he was worried that if Irons laid into him, he'd say something that would get him locked up for the night to cool off. - - He saw a man in the corridor he was walking down. The corridor was cold and sterile and all the noises from the rest of the R.P.D where non- existent. The R.P.D building had originally been a library, so soundproofing inside the walls was a good idea, then. Now, it was creepy. The windows caught the light at angles that left way too many shadows to hide in. Ben hated going any further than the lobby of the R.P.D because that's where things got . disturbing. And now this man. his skin was all bruised and bleeding and he was scratching at it like mad. The man was a cop, to boot. "Shit, dude!" Said Ben, and instantly the man hid his arms under his long sleeved shirt. "Are you okay??" "Itchy." Wailed the man "So. itchy. Please, make it go away." He got up and started to slowly limp towards Ben. "It won't stop!! Give me pain; give me suffering, but no! No more itching!!" "." Ben wanted to go up and help the guy but he found that he couldn't move out of fear. but fear of what?? " .Are you okay???" Ben repeated. "My . my skin is coming off .." Ben, as you would expect, didn't quite know how to react to that remark but something about the way that guy was walking just sent icy shivers up his spine. Now that Bens attention had been drawn to it, the mans skin was indeed peeling and dropping off to reveal the rotting tissue was hiding strange lumpy patches. ".!" "Irons won't even fucking give me leave!!!" The man sank back into the floor and peeled off a huge lump of skin, moulding and oozing with a pussy blood. He looked at it for a while, curiosity and for a moment, a glance of daring on his face, and then he plunged it into his bruised mouth hungrily, lapping at his fingers, his own blood dripping down his cheeks. He chewed wetly and almost thirstily and when he finally swallowed, a look of pure ecstasy became his face, his features creased in a smile. "Tasty." He managed to blurt out with a mouthful of gore. "It makes the itchy go away." Ben felt a sudden bolt of fear shoot through him when he saw the sudden look of realisation on the mans face as he stared at Ben with that. that look on his face. He didn't even seem Human anymore. "SHIT!" Screamed Ben, and he ran past the man as fast as his bony legs could carry him. The man moaned and reached out at him, but in his pain induced daze missed him totally. Ben slammed the door behind him and didn't stop running until he got back to the S.T.A.R.S office, slamming the door firmly behind him. Irons looked back at Ben, and laughed at the fear in his eyes. "Not so tough now, are you, reporter boy!" He laughed evilly. "It's not that!" He yelled " There was this dude down stair with his skin coming off and then he ate the skin and then he tried to get me!!! It was a fucking zombie, man! Like in those movies!!" Ben struggled for breath. Irons fell silent. His look was truly unnerving. He was still and silent, but his eyes. his eyes showed more to Ben than his words ever could, and Ben felt more terrified from Irons than he had with the zombie man. "You know what he is, don't you?" Stammered Ben. Irons looked threateningly into Ben's eyes as though those two disgusting pupils were screaming at him not to enquire any further, but Ben dared to, just to see what would happen. " Those 'zombie like creatures' the S.T.A.R.S reported. those are the same things!! And you look like you knew this shit was going down!!"- -"That's enough, Bertolucci!!" He barked. "You obviously didn't sleep well last night!" "Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?" "On one's going to believe you, Bertolucci." He said with a sadistic tone in his voice. "So you might as well go home now." "I'll let as many people know as possible!!" Yelled Ben "That zombies are running around in the R.P.D? Like anyone will believe that." Irons was right. Ben could argue all day but it wouldn't change the fact that absolutely no one would believe him; the same thing happened to the S.T.A.R.S. There was really nothing else he could do or say, but turn around and go back.  
Ben took the long way round back to the lobby, because he didn't want to find out whether the zombie man had been waiting for him or not. The question was, what to do now? He had no idea of anything anymore; he was one inch away from getting fired and to top it off, he thought he was going nuts. "Fuck this." Said Ben. He kicked the door open that lead to the lobby, only to find. to find. - That it was almost totally empty. Normally, the R.P.D lobby would be full of life and full of people who shared his sentiments for the rest of the building, but only Marvin and a few others who where eating donuts where around the desk area. "What the hell???" He said. "The west barricade has been broken through." Said one of the cops. ". By what?" The mans' face was pail. "Fucking zombies." -"Zombie-like creatures." Interrupted Marvin "They are reported to be wearing civilian clothing, too. The probability of those creatures being in the city thus is very great." "SHIT!!!!" Hollered Ben "One of those thing is in the corridor past the file room!!" "What??" "He was all bruised up and bleeding and he said he was itching and he tore up a lump of flesh and ate the piece of shit and then he gave me this really weird look and fucking went for me!" Ben took a deep breath. "Where is he, man??" "God - I told you!!! He's in the corridor next to the file room!!! The blue one!" Marvin reached under the desk and pulled out his favourite silver plated .25 calibre handgun and slung the holster over his shoulder. He loaded the gun and looked gravely at Ben and the other cop with the donut. "Is that really necessary??" asked Ben. "You know Redfield, don't you?" "He's with the S.T.A.R.S, right? I know one of his pals, David Ford and he told me all this stuff to do with zombies and Captain Wesker being a shit- head and one biiig muthafucker of a monster." "Did he tell you that it was all because of a simple T-Virus leak in a lab?" "No, he just kept telling me about zombies and stuff." "Think about it. A surrounding area to a lab became infected, creating zombie-like creatures out of the scientists that worked there, then the same thing happens here, in a city that is practically run by Umbrella." ".There's a lab near by??" "Bingo. I never thought of it before, but now, everything that didn't makes sense, every odd little thing that has happened over the last two months has fallen into place just like that!" He walked over to the donut-eating cop. "Neil, remember the guy in the sewers a few days ago?" " Yeah, what about him?" "You recovered C4 and a detonator that he left behind! He was obviously trying to blow it up!" -"Think it was William?" Interrupted Ben. The both fell silent "William?" "Yeah. I swiped some papers from the Chief's office 'few days ago. William was this guy going on to Irons in this fax about a 'G-virus' and there being his lab under the city." Ben leisurely ate a donut, unaware he was divulging a vital piece to the puzzle whilst the other two stood in awe. "He's all like 'I'm gonna get promoted to the executive board when I give this to Umbrella' but as it goes on, mail after mail his tune really changes and he ends up all like 'I'm not giving my life's work to anyone.' He said he put a shit load of money in Irons' account so he can dispose of the S.T.A.R.S in a manner that 'appeared purely accidental'. Said there where gonna be spies after him, too. Cool, hu?" There was a long pause. - "Ben, do you realise how crucial that piece of info is to the rest of this mystery??? That guy William was trying to blow up the route to his lab so the spies couldn't get the G-virus. And now, it looks like the T-virus is about. Maybe payback?" "Or a struggle that went wrong." Ben said, again accidentally flaunting a deductive skill no one ever knew he had. "Ben, you are a fucking genius!!!" "Strange. I'm often told that I'm a jack-ass." "Ignore everything that everyone has ever said because I love you, Bertolucci!!" "Not really I hope." "Well obviously." He headed over to the double doors that lead to the corridor with the zombie. "With my gun and your brain, this could work out!" "Yeah. whatever." Ben commented. Marvin was unnervingly enthusiastic. Ben knew that if you always expected failure then you would never be disappointed and he was a prime example why; a jinx would no doubt be on those words. -"Hey, what about me??" Whined Neil Carlsen, dropping his donut. "I'm the friggin' Sergeant here!"  
  
***  
  
Ben made sure he was defiantly at the back of the line before entering the corridor where he saw the man. The man had been at the other end, but Ben had seen enough 'Day of the Dead' movies to know that zombies had a horrible habit of leaping out from behind doors and through windows to eat their victims, but he was sorely disappointed when nothing happened. Marvin got ready with the gun "Are you sure he's here?" "He was at the other end." Whispered Ben. "Why are you whispering? If the zombie was here, it would come for us weather we talked or not." "Thanks for fucking cheering me up, asshole!" He hissed. Branagh moved quicker and held the gun much tighter, and behind him, almost in conga line formation, were Neil and then Ben, practically gripping onto each other seeking courage in the other mans bravery and being greatly disappointed. Ben held his breath as they rounded the corner, and this time was not disappointed by what they saw. Bloody handprints where strewn all over the walls in the area where the man had once been. "What the hell happened here??" Said Branagh. "Shh!!" Said Ben. "Listen.." A soft noise could be heard, only just, but heard all the same. It was a sloshing noise and then suddenly a soft grunt. The grunt helped with the estimation of where the noise was coming from; behind the small stack of boxes that the man had been leaning against, and as they slowly approached the pile, they saw a sight indeed. It was the man, and he was eating from a pile of dark flesh, tinted in blood shaded light and dark, in all consistencies. The man leant down and buried his face in the pile of gore in human formation again and almost lustfully filled his mouth with as much of the sticky sweet substance as possible and chewed it down as quickly as it could, only so that it could eat from the corpse more. "Holy crap" Thought Ben "That could've been me.!" "Freeze!" Yelled Branagh. The zombie stopped eating and finished his mouthful. It gulped slowly and almost deliberately creating tension between the three men. It turned its head slowly, and it looked at them with cataract eyes. "Dude," Said Ben "a zombie. I can tolerate this. By tolerate, I mean I would rather lie in the middle of a lions den dressed as a pork chop while basting myself in tasty tasty barbecue sauce while calling the biggest lions momma a slut." "Well shit." The zombie shambled to its knees wobbling slightly and classically raised its arms towards the source of it's yearning: Them. Branagh immediately opened fire on the monster and hit it twice square in the temple. It exploded in a shower of blood and bone and it fell back onto the floor, lying next to it's victim- -Who started to twitch. "God." Said Ben, feeling sick. It started to get up but before it had a chance to see them, Marvin put it down. "We've gotta go back to the lobby and put out a signal to all units." Branagh said with desperation in his voice. "Then we'll sweep the building for more survivors and get the heck out!" -"Wait!!" Yelled Neil. "What about that new guy who's coming in for the nightshift?!" "If we're still in the R.P.D at that time, then we'll go look for him, but the chances are that by that time, the city will be so far gone that I genuinely doubt he'll get as far as the R.P.D" "The units sent out will no doubt deal with that threat." Said Neil. "No, they can't. The bodies of your dead comrades coming after you. do you really think they can deal with such a situation??" -"And those zombies won't be the only things running around out there if there was an accident at a lab close by." Ben said with a deathly tone in his voice.  
  
***  
  
Ben felt a rush of relief when he saw how many other officers had the same idea as them when they got to the lobby. There was only about eight or so, but they all seemed relived that others had made it to the lobby. The second they got back in, the other officers threw boards up against the door and nailed it shut. "What the hell are you doing???" Said Branagh. "There's something running around in there." Said one. " A Creature with a lance like tough. It killed three of our men." "But we just came from there!" Said Branagh "And I passed through there about ten minuets ago when Irons called me up!" "Then you where very lucky indeed. Those three went in just after you did." "Shit." Ben sat down on the floor. "That's twice I've nearly been killed."- -A loud scream echoed through the building, then gun fire, then nothing.-  
Everyone fell silent, trying to hear for any more clues as to where the man was, but it was eerily silent. Not a sound. The gunfire didn't start up again. "We've got to get out of here." Whimpered Neil. "We've got to send out an S.O.S or at least warn any others." Branagh marched over to the desk and tapped at the P.C a few times. He swiped it with a blue key card and then punched in a few more codes- -"Crap." He yelled. "The communication equipment is down!" "We can go to the S.T.A.R.S office and use the shit there." Piped up the officer, who Ben had just recognised as Elliot Edward, friends with his pal David Ford. "We can't. Everything's all out. We can't send messages, only receive them." "Then what do we do?" "We get out." Said Marvin. "Grab your guns, people. We're gonna kill us some zombies." -Someone taped Ben on the shoulder- -"HOLY CRAP!!" He screamed, and the man behind him nearly died of shock. "Asshole!" He yelled. Ben turned around to see it was David Ford, only his best pal! -"D.J! You piece of shit!" "You moron!" "Geek!" "Freak!" "Loser!" "Cop!" David paused, then laughed. They both laughed. "Though you where zombie meat for sure!" "I actually nearly was! I saw this guy just as he changed." "So what the hell is going down now?" "We're gonna get out of here." "How?" The other officers listened in, remembering Bens' uncanny detective skills. "Well, I guess through the sewers, because this freaky mad scientist guy didn't want R.P.D members going down there and it leads to a chemical plant or something, so I guess it would be logical to assume there is a method of escape there, cuz that's just what Irons and that William guy didn't seem to want us to find out." -"Ben!" Called Branagh "You're a genius!" "Will you stop calling me that?!? People might hear." He turned to David. "And if I'm so fucking smart, then how come I don't know how to get there, hu?" -"We just go the same way I did;" Said Neil " Through the manhole in the kennel area." "The door's locked with the heart key." Said Branagh. "There are two, and one is in the West office, I know that for sure." "Then lets get there!"  
The object seemed very simple; the door to the west office was in the R.P.D lobby, all they had to do was go in there, grab the key, go through the East office and unlock the door. If only it was that simple.  
They where expecting an easy ride, so it caught the cops totally off guard when the second they entered the room, they where leapt on by zombies. Guns instantly were ablaze, firing into the air, mainly. The zombies grabbed the first two that entered the room and dragged them off to a secluded corner where they tore into them ravenously as their partners fired in all directions, hitting friend and foe alike.  
Ben would never forget those first screams, the first of many he would hear echoing throughout the R.P.D on this night, including his own and at that moment, he knew he wouldn't get out of this alive.  
Ben darted back as he was unarmed and didn't want to get in the way of a stray bullet, as well as the desire of not wanting to battle the undead with bare hands. Those two cops probably thought they could handle a zombie, too and they where armed.  
Branagh and they others dived into the room shooting straight this time and trying vainly to save their friends, only to become the ones needing to be saved. Ben ushered back further and further, hearing guns and screams. He had no idea what to do, but all he knew was that his friend was in there. . On the other hand, if he went into the East office and kicked that damn door in rather than go on a wild goose chase for the key, then he would get out of the city before things got really bad. -David jumped out of the room breaking him out of considering treachery. "D.J!" Called Ben, feeling guilt because of his disgusting thoughts. "God, what's happening!?" "It's . Two of them are dead and Branagh is down." "Shit." Ben rushed over to the room. He looked in and saw that tables had been stacked up around the door for cover. Blood was sprayed all up the walls, and more disturbingly, handprints were dragged across the walls in a path leading to the pile of corpse in the corner of the room. Leaning against the lockers with a nasty bite mark in his stomach was Marvin, his face creased in pain. "I'm okay." He breathed. "Get they key!" He didn't look okay. "We don't know where it is!" Said David. Branagh sighed and hauled himself up, painfully. Even Ben winced at the expression on Marvin's face. He staggered over to the office section and on the desk, shimmering almost innocently, was a key with a heart emblaze upon the top. "Take this to the East office." He said, gasping from his wounds. A few other officers offered to help him up, but he nobly pushed them away. Ben would've taken the help, but then again, Ben had never been in a situation like this. It made him wonder. if his time ever came, would he be so selfless? Branagh slumped down. "I'm tired." He said, closing his eyes. "Leave me here." "What about the others?" Said David. The 'others' where officers whom had been injured so badly, they couldn't move very far. "We can't carry them." "I'll lock all the doors when your out." He said. "The injured can stay in the evidence room next door until you come with reinforcements." "Sounds good." Said David. " I have the diamond key with me; I'll lock the door on the way out and a guy can lock the other door from the inside. We'll head for the operation room and work out what we're going to do there." "It's getting late." Said Edward "The patrols haven't come back. We only sent out the armed unit and some of the foot patrols said they'd meet them there." "That rookie that's coming." Said Ben "D.J, you said he would've been in the armed unit? . Lucky son of a bitch, if he had come this morning to look around first." They all fell silent for a moment. I made them realise just how much things had changed in one day. None of them gave it a second thought, they just did it; went out with the intension to survive. David led them as they moved on, leaving their comrades behind. Ben had a feeling deep inside that that would be the last time he would ever see Branagh and it left him with a horrid feeling deep within his gut. It was nearing ten o'clock and they had no idea of what to do, except that the operation room had enough resources for them to plan an appropriate approach to the next issue of getting out of here when the doors where locked and the bottom door was barricaded.  
  
***  
  
"The doors are barricaded and the other way is the way we came, and we can't go back there." Said Neil. Neil had somehow got it into his head that the best leader for the operation would be him, seeing as he was highly ranked than the rest of him. Ben grunted. It was his idea to leave through the swears. "I assume that we should go through the swears to a rumoured secret laboratory that no doubt has an escape route leading to outside the city limits." "Damn." Whispered Ben " I deserve the fucking royalties." David laughed, but didn't take his eyes away from his clipboard. Ben quickly lost interest in the speech and turned his attention to whatever David was writing. "D.J" He whispered. "What you doin'?" "Writing an operation report." He said. "Just incase anyone stops by and doesn't know how to get out." "No one's gonna get this far, not with the door barricaded." "What if those creatures brake through?" "Then if anyone's near, they won't survive if the creatures can do that."  
Ben lent over his shoulder and read the first few lines;  
  
-Operation Report- September 26th The Raccoon City Police Dept. was unexpectedly attacked by zombies  
  
"Well duh" Though Ben "Whoever finds this would have loooong since worked that one out"  
  
Many have been injured. Even more killed. During the attack, our communication equipment was destroyed and we are no longer in contact with the outside. We have decided to carry out an operation with the intent of rescuing any possible survivors, as well as to prevent this disaster from spreading beyond Raccoon City. The details are as follows:  
  
That was as far as he had gotten. "D.J, how are we gonna prevent the spread? We couldn't prevent the city from being taken, so how are we gonna prevent a damn spread? "I'm hoping that we find a way." "And I was hoping that I didn't get fired a while ago but it looks like I don't have to worry about that now." "What's your point, Ben?" Said David, peering at him through his specs with an irritated look in his eyes. "My point" He began, making it up as he went along " my point. is that this morning, I was worried about my job, I was lying in my bed with nothing to do, bored out of my mind. I had no plans for today except to be on time for that last report by Irons, and spend the rest of the day drinking lots of coffee in the R.P.D lobby." "I'm still missing the point to this little speech." "The point is that with the city like this, nothing is going to go to plan, no matter how professionally you try to handle this, those zombies ain't gonna play fair and let us the gallant heroes escape in one piece." "Do you have any better ideas?" Barked David as he continued with his writing. "Yeah. We lay low until the army gets here, that's the only course of action that I can think of that won't get our asses chewed into zombie meat." David stared at Ben. "Maybe you're right, but this way, at least we die doing the right thing, and not hiding cowardly waiting for a false hope to take us under it's wing. If we want to get out of here alive, then we have to do it ourselves!" "I knew you'd say that!" He yelled. Everyone stopped. "This isn't some story where the good guys never get beat cos they 'did the right thing'. This is real life where you take your consequences to the grave, and if there's one thing I've learnt in life, it's that the good guy always die and it's better to be safe than dead." Ben got up and stormed over to the cupboard in the corner of the room. He slammed the door shut heavily, locking the door.  
Ben pulled up a chair from one of the many that was stacked up in this storage room and sat heavily down on it. "Asshole." He muttered. Ben hated it when his friends didn't listen to him, mainly because he didn't have very many so he couldn't lose them, but he had a horrid habit of it. His best friend was a bottle of any form of strong drink. "I could do with one now." Ben let his eyes wander the room. At first, it appeared that there wasn't much on display, but when he looked tings over again, this room was very curious indeed. There were suits of armour behind the stack of chairs and axes hung up on the walls. The centre of everything was a fireplace, which was very odd indeed. Why would a fireplace be in a storage room?? Ben got out of his seat and looked at the fireplace. It appeared to be in working order, kindling was in there and everything. The thing that was strangest was that over it hung a picture. It was of a naked figure with a bag over her head, hung by the neck and dead. "'A sacrifice to the hell fire'" He read. He looked down at the fireplace and wondered. A lot of puzzles like this where in the mansion in the forest where the lab the S.T.A.R.S encountered the zombies was connected to, and he had found out on the Internet that the R.P.D was designed by the same person. and this building, from the evidence, seemed to collect to a lab too.  
Ben checked his pockets, but he didn't have a lighter on him. "Ahhh, fucking.."- -There was a banging coming from outside- Ben froze and the sounds from the operation room outside ceased, too. Ben's heart stopped when a low moan rose from someplace in the R.P.D- -BANG!-  
The banging was on the operation door. -Thud thud- -KROOOM-  
The door was bashed in and a hail of gunfire was heard. Ben couldn't see what was going on, and didn't want to. He crouched into a corner and listened to the firefight, and to his sickening horror, in amongst the cries and pleads for help, he heard David. -Bang-bang-bang-  
There was a terrible hammering on the storage room door. Ben grabbed a pole off of the floor and stood, arming himself with it, shaking from the fearful concept of having to defend himself against the living dead. "Ben!" Came a voice, a voice just outside the door. It was David. He was banging on the door. "Ben!!! Open the door!!! Please!!!" Ben didn't move. "PLEASE BEN!!! Please!!! I dropped my gun!!!!" David's voice became suddenly extremely desperate and almost screaming. "GOD PLEASE!!!!! THEY'RE COMING!!!" His voice almost became weeping "Please, Ben.. Please. open the door, Ben. OPEN THE"- -His voice stopped and his screaming began.-  
Ben crushed himself up into the corner, crying. "David???" He called, but all her heard were the gurgled screams of his best friend, the friend he had just let die because he was too scared.- -But he wasn't dead yet! There was still a chance.-  
Ben rushed over to the door, undid the bolts, and turned the knob, and almost instantly after he had done as such, the door burst open, and Ben was flung onto the floor of the room and they spilled in, two zombie, stained in blood, gasping for fresh meat. Ben knew he was going to die for this mistake, and didn't move from where he lay- -BAM-  
The first zombie's head exploded, shortly followed by the seconds and the two corpses fell onto their, hopefully, final resting place. "D.J!!!" Cried Ben in a sudden flow of relief, but that soon faded when he saw that it wasn't his best friend, that it was Elliot Edward. "David didn't make it." He said. "He was banging on the door but you obviously didn't hear him." "Yeah, obviously." "Unlucky for him. Come on out, the bastards are all gone." "How many are left?" ". Just you me, and two others and they're pretty bad." ".Shit." "Chill man." He said. "I'm starting to like your idea of hanging out until the army gets here. I know a place where we can hide out. The dark rooms' door is always kept closed and those creatures don't have enough intelligence to open the doors." "But they can smash them through." "Lets not think about that now." "What about the wounded in the evidence room? Maybe we should pick them up; we're low on men." "Their wounds where so bad that they're probably turned by now." "Marvin was better than most!" "He hasn't got long." "So then it's settled" Said Ben, getting up. "Dark room it is." Ben was almost too keen to get out of there, which wasn't surprising. "What do we do with the other two?" "Bring them with, I assume." Elliot looked towards the two broken figures sitting on the desks. The place looked like a full-scale war had broke out.  
  
Ben tried not to let his gaze meet with the body of D.J as he stepped over it.- -It grabbed his leg.- "Ben!" It stuttered, gore burbled out of his mouth. He was chocking to death on his own blood. He had huge lumps out of him all over the place and his clothes where dyed in his own blood. His body was just an unrecognisable bleeding mass. His eyes where full of hurt and fear and he wanted to ask Ben. "Why.?" He gasped, but his chokes suddenly stopped and his head rolled to one side. He was dead. He died with his eyes open. "You could've done nothing." Said Elliot Edward, but Ben knew he could've... Seeing his best friend die like that.. Something inside Ben just. stopped working. "Guys!!" Hollered Edward "We're gonna lay low for a while, in the dark room!" "Fuck that" Said one, weakly "We laid low for one hour and this is what happened to us." "But it's all we have left!" "EVERYONE'S DEAD!" Yelled the other. His words echoed for a few moments as the reality sunk in. Ben looked down at his hands. "D.J would still be around." He thought. "We'd be around still. He'd be with me." Ben started to cry. The thought of D.J standing next to him crushed his heart. He pictured his smiling face, saying, "Ben, I'm surprised that a sneaky little rat-man bastard like yourself would've survived this far!" Ben looked down at David and fell to his knees, fishing around in the pile of mess for his back, and desperately squeezed him into his chest.- -Something metal fell to the ground.- Ben stopped crying and turned his attention to it, slowly. It was a key ring, a rusty metal-blue keying with a single key. Ben slowly picked it up and read the inscription aloud. "'R.P.D cell three.'" "What?" Ben stuffed the key quickly into his pocket. "Nothing." "D.J was a good guy." He said in an attempt to soothe Ben, but Ben didn't want to listen to what he had to say. The key. D.J knew he would be safe in a cell, so was he planning on ditching them later on, or did he stay with them because. because.he cared.- -Ben killed that trail of thought right there before it got out of hand. He tried to convince himself that David was planning to leave them in a situation, because it pained Ben to think that he would have any other intension. Elliot Edward opened the doors to the corridor that eventually lead to the Dark room and stopped right there. "Shit!!" He gasped. The windows all along the walls had been smashed through. Someone, they had no idea who, had tried to board them up, but his fate was made very clear by the smudged bloody hand prints that smeared along one of the boards and along the window Payne. "Don't get near the windows." Warned Ed. "We're not following you two." Said one of the wounded cops. "The others won't die in vain and we"- -"Come off the crap!" Ed barked. "We'll all be through if we don't stand down!!" "Sir." Muttered one. He lifted his top to reveal a disgusting tear along his side. "I'm." He paused " .Sir." "You can stay behind." Ed said with a slight (And I mean slight) sympathetic edge "Moving around with a gash like that wouldn't help anyone" the sympathy died, suddenly. "But make sure that if it gets real bad, you eat a bullet before you change." He marched from the room and Ben rushed to keep up, but was hit by the doors as they swung back onto him. -DONK!-  
Ben landed on the floor. "HEY, ELLIOT!!! WAIT UP!!!" Ben scrambled to his feet, but looked back at the other two. "Stay cool you two, hu?" He rushed after the officer. "That man needs a downsize in ego" Thought Ben "So HE needs a downsize in ego?!" barked back a part of him. "You let your best fucking friend die because you was too scared and you say Edward has an ego?! Look at you! Even I wouldn't save you if you where on deaths door and you chose David Ford to die over you" "Shut up!" Ben spat " I don't need the third fucking degree from you too!" "Bertolucci!" Called back Ed "Who ya talking to?" "No one!" "Talking to yourself, eh? That's the first sign you're going nuts"  
Ben didn't call back. He was seriously wondering . Maybe insanity was they way to go. It would protect him. "Protect you? Lets see you protect yourself from those zombies like you pitted David against!" "I." "You what?? 'You're sooo sorry! Oh I'm so sorry for killing you David! Thanks for not using that ol' dieing breath to fucking shooting me up the ass with your handgun!'" "I don't care about D.J!" He muttered to himself. "That's better. In real life, you don't get anywhere by caring about others. If you're not sorry then you don't have to feel that you did wrong and thinking of anything else in a situation like this will get you killed.. Just use this to help you." "That's not all of it." "What, you're gonna use Ed until he dies too??" "He's not going to die!" -"Who aint!?" "You, Ed!" "Good." Elliot kicked the door open at the end of the corridor and flashed his gun about the room. "CLEAR!" He called back. Ben ran into the corridor that held the doorways to the Dark room and the Evidence room, (the door that had been locked from the inside) and also the stairs to the second floor. Ben ran over to the dark room door and waited for Ed. Ed jumped into the room, almost comically in Ben's opinion. "CLEAR!" He yelled into Ben's ear. "Ow! Fuck, man! It's only us two! Do you have to yell like that? You'll attract attention!" "From what?!" "The zombies! We're like a beacon to those things so yelling like a moron won't help anyone!" "No need to shout." "Man, you are one asshole, hu?" Ben pushed past the officer into the small room. It was no bigger than the storage room; apart from this one had a red glow coming from a doorway at the end of it. "What's through there?" "That's where photos are developed." Ben got up and stomped over to the room, looking down it and sneering "What, that little shoe box of a room? Back at L.A.P.D, the dark room there was twice the size of this entire room!" The room was mainly an offshoot office. It had a typewriter, a few ink ribbons and office crap all over the desk in the focus of the room. There was a large set of metallic draws with a translucent cupboard overhead. Photo materials where stored in it. Ben assumed the same for the large chest in the corner. "This is a mess!" Said Ben. "Irons' fundings." He shook his head in mock-shame. "Too stingy to hire cleaners." "Now is not the time to fuck around." Ed said. "That or I can't be bothered at the moment. God Dammit, man! Your best friend just died out there!!" "I don't see how that is my problem.." "God, you're sick." Said Ed, sinking into the economically made office chair posed in front of the typewriter. "Not one hundred percent in the head." He muttered to himself and began to type away. "What the hell are you doing now?" "Writing an operation report." Ben turned away. "A follow up from D..J's?" "Yeah." He said, now absorbed in his work. A few seconds passed. "Well!" Said Ben, breaking the silence. "I'll go nap. I didn't get any sleep last night an' I'm not too sure if I'm dreaming this all or not." "Believe me" He murmured "This is real life, alright." He started to smile "'with consequences you take to the grave'" he said repeating Bens' remark to D.J Ben snorted and shuffled over to the dark room area of the small room. Ben liked the light of the room, because it soothed his slightly scarred senses. The hum of the electric lights was lulling and the close walls and strange, artificial odour of various developing chemicals lulled him gradually to sleep.  
  
***  
  
Ben awoke. He had no idea where he was at first, but the smell brought his senses back. He didn't dare move or breath when he remembered what had torn him from his dreamless sleep. It was a sound of a gunshot. He couldn't remember weather he had heard it, or weather it was the beginnings of a dream, but he didn't move. He just listened. -Movement, a wriggling sound- -He heard someone cough, someone cough up blood. He recognised that same sound from the dieing breaths of his best friend and it knifed through his heart to hear it again. The coughing ended with a gargling cry, muted in pain, and then all the writhing noises stopped, but when the writhing noises stopped, another sound began. -It was laughing- -Someone chuckled. Ben recognised that perverted sound and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying to God that he had gone mad and was hearing things, but no such luck, when the chuckling changed into word "Beautiful! A wonderful pose, Elliot!" Ben nearly died when he heard those words. It was Chief Irons. Ben didn't dare go to check if Ed was still alive, he would just listen. "Died with your eyes wide in terror, staring at me. To think of what you must have felt when you realised that you where dieing by your Chief's gun. The irony of the most trusted man in Raccoon killing you. Yes, it is really quite funny, isn't it? You're coming with me, my friend." Ben heard more movement, as he knew Irons lifted the body up onto his shoulders. "I wonder if the mayors daughter is still alive? I let her go just so I could enjoy hunting her down later, you see." Who the hell was he talking to?? "What to do, what to do." and he paused ". I wonder if any of the Birkin's are still alive? Sherry. I think I've heard something in the ducts since the attacks happened." Irons paused. "And the female Birkin. What was her name again? Annette. isn't it?" His voice became very low "Her husband.. Her husband was the one who did this to my beautiful town! He and his monsters! Those monsters have overrun my city!!!" His voice changed into a sickly tone. It made Ben feel sick. "She will pay for her husbands crimes." Ben heard Irons leave the room, closing the door gently behind him. Ben gradually looked at the papers he had swiped from Irons only a week or so ago. 'Birkin' was the signature at the bottom. 'William Birkin', and from Irons deluded rambling, it seemed that Ben's original hypothesis was correct, that the Birkin's where to blame.  
But what could he do about it? What's done is done and cannot be undone and there was no way he would be able to get to the surviving members of the Birkin family; they where reclusive enough even before all this shit started going down. The man Neil Carlsen saw in the swears had to have been William trying to destroy the entrance to his lab. he noticeably didn't succeed, as this chemical leak was some kind of accident. No corporation would poison an entire city on purpose, the cover up would be a nightmare; too many risks, And Raccoon was a city which Umbrella had built from a quiet mountain town to this city with an immense population and most of them where employed by Umbrella, not as zombie making scientist, but as pharmacists, in beauty stores, and anything pharmacutirical. (Which must have been why no one in Raccoon was willing to listen to what the S.T.A.R.S had found.) Losing it was going to make them hurt a little. "Serves them right, the assholes." Thought Ben "They built it up to a perfect place for them to hide operations and it was taken away from them. The mansion lab spill didn't have such a wide area of infection as this one, meaning that wherever the lab was, it was huge , but they hid it well enough so that no one has found it, even now.." Ben took the key from his pocket. He knew there the prison cells were very sturdy indeed (Irons often put him in there, just to scare him off any juicy case) and those zombies didn't have the intelligence to pick the lock, and they sure as hell couldn't batter in the cell; "And Irons isn't the type to think I'd get that far." and Ben didn't want to end up like Ed, getting hunted down by Irons like the Birkins soon would be. Presuming they where still alive. "God Dammit as if zombies and monsters weren't enough, we've got a psycho police chief hunting down any god damn mother fucker he can find!!" " I hate Racoon City." Muttered Ben, finally plucking up the courage to get up off his ass and do something. The only thing he could do was to go down to the cells and lock himself up until the army get here. The R.P.D would be the first place someone like that would check out. Hopefully.  
  
***  
  
Ben didn't have the heart key, but someone had unlocked the door... It was a relief and a big worry to Ben. When he came into the East office, he saw two cops lying on the floor, still alive, but only a few minuets away from turning, and Ben had already seen that one guy turn, he didn't want those to start while he was feverishly trying to kick in the door.  
The East office had to have been the creepiest room yet, the winding pathways between desks and the constant hum the overhead fans, whisking around the smell of rotting flesh that had gradually permeated the R.P.D since that first scream that echoed through the corridors. Since Ben picked up that key and went on his own little trek to the basement jail cells, he had heard several gunshots; some near, some far. The farther the better. Ben didn't want to have to convince a terrified cop with a sub machine gun that he wasn't a zombie.  
"More broken windows." He thought to himself when he entered the corridor after entering the heart key door. This one was as narrow as the one outside the operation room. Ben pressed himself up against the wall and edged over to the stairs, not wanting to remotely risk getting pulled through the window by whatever the hell was out their waiting. Ben dived down the stairs into the dark alley that held more off-limits R.P.D material; the morgue, the weapons storage, no doubt ransacked by now. Past the parking lot at the end and you would be on your way to the kennels and prison cells. All the same, Ben didn't hurry. He rounded each corner as carefully as possible and didn't let his hopes up too much when he saw the neon lit Parking sign. Those zombies had to hone in on something. The less he let his fear control him, the less attention he would attract, but he couldn't stop it totally. In his gut he felt the smoulder of terror, subtle and constant. No matter how much he tried to dull the panic, that ache was always there, and had been ever since the cop with the itchy skin first realised that he didn't have to consume his own skin to make it go away.  
Ben pushed the door open and peered in. He didn't release the door until he was confident there was nothing in there and entered slowly. The wide- open space was refreshing, the cars, mainly squad cars, were stacked up on, whatever the hell those metal bracers were used for.  
Ben was relived to see that the entrance to the cells was clear, and it was literally plane sailing beyond that point. Just one more corridor to traverse and he would be there, so you can imagine how irritated he felt after all his endevors that the cells were closed with an electronic lock he didn't have the code for. "D.J Would've known about the lock, he mentioned it in the operation report I caught a glimpse of before I marched off." Ben wasn't about to hang around guessing codes, and the gate looked sturdy, so, using a chair that was next to the lock, he rammed its leg into the panel, and once it smacked open, Ben crushed the circuitry as hard as he could, repeatedly until the green light blinked red. Ben put the chair down with a sigh and tried the gate, and to his relief, it opened straight up. "Thank you God." He muttered under his breath and ran into the cell room, forcing the key into the lock, slipping a handful of times with his overflowing sense of relief and sweaty hands. He slammed the door behind him, the resounding noise of cell door boomed throughout Bens brain. Terror seeped out of his system when he realised; "I'm safe. I'm safe in here. None of those zombies can get me in here!" Ben smiled, and then let out a little laugh. "Let's see 'em get me in here." Ben sat on one of the cell beds, which was more of a plank hanging off the wall, and lay down on his side, facing the strange smelling wall. "I'm safe."  
Ben slowly fell into a light does, before finally allowing himself to fall asleep.  
  
***  
  
"You must be Ben, right?" Came an angry voice, waking him up from outside the cell. "Get up, NOW." The man banged on the bars of the cell. Ben moaned. "What's goin' on? I'm trying to sleep here!" Ben rubbed his eyes before looking at the man and smiled. It was a cop, a young one, and he was staring back at Ben ominously. It must have been the new guy that was supposed to be coming in tonight. "Well, whadaya know?" He thought. "He got here in one piece! Ha. How about that." Just as that thought crossed his mind, someone else rounded the corner. It was a woman in a red dress and leggings. She was Asian, and not to mention beautiful. "How the heck did someone like her get this far? All those cops dead and you're telling me some scantily clad woman with a pop gun survived?" "Is this they guy?" The boy said. His voice was low, trying not to direct his anger towards her. She nodded. Ben suddenly realised that the kid probably thought he was a criminal! Ben smiled wider. This could even be fun. "Ben," Said the woman. How the hell did she know his name?? "You told the city officials something. about, what's been going on is this town. What did you tell them?" How the hell did she know that?? That was only after he stole Williams mail a week ago and he hadn't told anyone! Not even D.J. "I don't know what you're talking about." He replied, in an 'I don't care' sort of way. "And even if I did, why would I wanna tell you?" Ben turned away from them, smiling down. "Okay," Said the cop. "I say we leave him there. Does anyone know where they keep the key to this cell??" Ben grinned wide, and not turning to face them, he slipped the key he got from D.J out of his pocket. Spinning it on his finger, he said; "I have it right here officer, but I'm not about to leave this cell." He turned to them, becoming serious for a moment. He didn't want them to suffer the same fate as all the others. "Those zombies aren't the only things running around out there"- -'GRAAAARRRGH'- -As if on cue. Ben felt a shiver go through him; it was as if he knew who made that inhuman roar. "What was that ?!" Demanded the cop, turning his face to the room. Whatever it was, it was very close by and very pissed off. "Like I said," Ben continued calmly, knowing that he was safe and that no monster could get to him. "I'm not leaving this cell, now get out of here before you lead it right to me."- -"I'm not leaving!" Interrupted the boy, catching Ben completely by surprise. "I'm the only cop left alive in this building!" "What?!" They were the only survivors??? "If you want to live, then you'll have to leave with me." Ben slowly smirked, getting a grip again. The kid had a good heart, but. "Look, do you even know how to get out of the city?" He asked. The boy didn't reply. "There's a kennel in the back of the building. Inside that kennel there is a manhole. It'll take you to the sewers, but. it won't be easy."- -"Alright." Said the woman, and she ran off before the rookie cop had a chance to stop her. "Ada! Wait!!" He called. Ben recognised the name. Ada was the name of some guy named John's girlfriend. He was an Umbrella employee at the mansion lab. Ada, she seemed to know what she was doing, maybe it was no accident that she had ended up in here, and now she was after what info he had on the viruses. but that was just his speculation.  
The boy took a radio from his utility belt and flicked it on. It beeped, and into it he said. "Claire. Do you read me? We now have access to the back of the parking lot. Can you meet me there?" A voice reply, even younger sounding than him; "I'm on my way." She replied, sound.. She sounded a little depressed, but hell, how wouldn't be? The boy quickly made his way to the kennel, and he shot a look back to Ben. A look that said 'I'm watching you.' Ben smiled and winked back just as he disappeared from view. Ben sighed and sat back down. He hoped they did better than the others had done. there was something about that new rookie that said to Ben that he was going to survive, which was more than he got when he looked at himself. The boy had no way of know just what had happened before his arrival, just how many good men died before Bens very eyes trying to get to where he was now. Ben told him about the kennel as if he were passing on a great knowledge to an heir, a fact that was now useless to him but he hoped the rookie cop would find it infinity useful. In him he saw all the things D.J had said before he died about fighting for what was right. Ben smiled; the boy was kind hearted, maybe not to him, but Ben had a sixth sense for that kind of thing but it just made him wonder what that Ada womans' intensions really were for the boy. was she using him? It reminded him of a more clean cut version of him and D.J.  
Ben lay back down on his side, closed his eyes pondering all this- -But they flicked back open again when he heard the slight 'chink' of metal. He jumped up and looked down at the sourced of the noise. It was the key. It had fallen to the door. "Piece of shit!" He muttered, angry at it for giving him such a fright. He kicked it to the corner of the cell, close to the bars. He went to go get it back at first, but it wasn't too close to the bars, only about a ruler length away. Zombies wouldn't have the sense to pick up the key, and even that monster they heard would be more focused on the piece of meat rather than the small lump of metal lying on the floor. Ben lay back down and closed his eyes. Maybe now with all his worries behind him would he get some uninterrupted shuteye. -There was a slight noise, but Ben didn't care what the hell it was. He just wanted to go to sleep. ..- -That was defiantly something. A rattling noise. Ben didn't move at first, until he heard a 'clack' sound. That was the lock being opened. Ben prayed it was the rookie who had come back to check on him and saw the key. Who else could it be? Ben sat up and saw. saw.- -Ben gasped and his heart stopped for just a second-  
What was it?! It was holding the key, whatever it was. It had once been a man, it had a face, at least and it was wearing blue jeans and a lab coat that had been torn by the disproportion of it's mutated body. Its right arm was the most disfigured part of his body; it had an eye growing on it for God's sake! Huge twelve-inch bone claws webbed across its fist and bits of fleshy tissue had been forced aside were what it had become now. The perfect maiming weapon.  
Its face was slightly disfigured, it's eyes where red, but it was a man, or at least he once was. His jaw was attached to his chest by strands of sticky flesh were keeping its mouth gouged open slightly, revealing once human teeth that were starting to change into piercing daggers and all over his skin was discoloured and bruised from the disproportion of his mutilated body.  
Ben crushed himself back into a corner; it started to gradually come toward him. "Get back!" Ben screamed. As if it was going to take note of him.- -Something glistened on its chest as it staggered toward him. It was a laminated personnel tag, and as the beast neared him, it got close enough for Ben to examine it. The picture was of the man, or whatever it was, only in more human stages. The picture was cheerful smiling, a complete change to the . entity that stood, examining him. Ben's eyes widened when he read the name aloud. -"'William Birkin...'"- He read under his breath, but the thing heard him. It's eyes burned into him, threateningly. It was obviously caught off guard by Ben's familiarity with its name. It raised its more human hand to Ben's face, only it wasn't as human as he might have liked. Its centre parted and from it came a tentacle. Ben gasped, and the monster took the opportunity to ram it down deep into his throat and release a lump into Ben's body.- -And it started to claw at him. The lump with many hooking legs thrust itself down into Ben. He vomited as he fell to the ground, but it didn't help him. Ben lay in the pile of bloody vomit and watched the Birkin thing leer down at him, finding humour in Ben's pain, and even the eye on its shoulder opened to look down at its hosts work, too. "Birkin." Gasped Ben to it, throat aching. "It's Irons' fault. I know. If he had done what you told him to then none of this would have happened.You were right about the G-virus. Ain't no one's gonna take it from you." The Birkin creature's third eye closed, and . it seemed to understand Ben. It turned away and exited, and literally seconds later, the rookie cop dashed in. Ada waited by the door, looking back. How could they not have run into it?? They were obviously in the kennel, and if they came along that quickly, they creature would have had no escape. It was a dead end, but it had vanished, vanished into the night from which he created. "BEN! What happened!!?" Cried the rookie, but Ben had no time for small talk. He could feel whatever it was Birkin had put into him start to come out. It obviously didn't like it's new home. At least the freaks in 'Aliens' had a chance to actually work out what was going on. "This... is all chief Irons' fault." He struggled. "A conspiracy, the mansion lab, too. If it wasn't for him, none of this would've happened." Ben pulled out the papers he had stolen from Irons' office, the papers that his killer had written, William Birkin. "God." The rookie spat. "Chief Irons." Birkin had paid Irons to make sure that no one stole his work but all Irons did was just spend the money and didn't hold up his end of the bargain. As a result, a struggle between Birkin and the spies must have happened and a chemical leak ensued. Irons' incompetence had murdered them all. had murdered him.. Ben was almost out of time. He wasn't going to waste his last words in a pitiful cry for help like his own friend D.J had done. The rookie was holding Ben up in a pool of stinking blood and vomit, the look in his eyes was fear; he had no idea what was going on and he couldn't stop it, but Ben frowned dangerously into his eyes, and with his voice and teeth gritted, the growled in pain and seething hatred for Brian Irons; "Get. that. scum... Make. him..pay."  
The pain became unbearable and Ben knew it was coming out now and wasn't going to wait. Ben got up and staggered back clutching himself, spasming as sounds echoed from inside him. "My chest!" He exclaimed. "It. IT BURNS!" And no sooner did he say those words, the creature inside him tore its way out, seeking freedom from its gruesome prison. Ben screamed out in pain as he saw his own dark, sticky blood fly through the room, the rookie's face expressed his disgust and terror. If he hadn't been in so much agony, Ben may even have laughed, but this was no laughing matter, because this was his end, it was more painful than he had ever imagined but oddly enough, he wasn't afraid to die anymore. The last thing Ben Bertolucci saw was his own blood splatter on the face of the horrified young rookie cop as his body was torn in half lengthways. 


End file.
